


We're Scully and Mulder

by Bootstrap_Paradox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autistic!Hermione, F/F, autistic!Luna
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bootstrap_Paradox/pseuds/Bootstrap_Paradox
Summary: Luna and Hermione are very different, but sometimes opposites do attract. When Hermione is stuck trying to solve a peculiar murder case, she comes back home to her girlfriend - and discovers that sometimes the key to solving is puzzle is not logic, but free, unlimited imagination.Post-Deathly Hallows AU: Harry is a professor at Hogwarts, Luna and Hermione are together, and they're both autistic because uhhh reasons.





	We're Scully and Mulder

**Author's Note:**

> written in 2016 for an #actuallyautistic fanwork exchange

_“They got together; wave and stone,_

_Verse and prose, ice and flame…”_

_Alexander Pushkin, ‘Eugene Onegin’_

Today Hermione came back home even later than usual. Her fumbling with the door keys woke up the neighbors’ yappy dog, and she quietly cursed under her breath, as she continued to look for the keyhole in the darkness of the alleyway. The door seemed adamant about not wanting to be opened. Glancing over her shoulder to check for strangers, Hermione took out her wand and whispered ‘lumos’. A beam of white light shone from the wand, and finally she could locate the keyhole. She couldn’t just use ‘alahomora’ on this one – it was protected from unwanted entrance.

The door clicked, hissed and screeched – as if tiny gears were spinning and turning inside it. When, in the end, it opened, it revealed a small room lit by a soft, orange light. If someone was to enter it without a special key, all they would find in the house was dust and empty halls. But the muggles believed the house was abandoned years ago, so they rarely bothered to even pass by. Sometimes kids would come to explore the place, out of curiosity or for a dare, but they didn’t stay for long. For them, it wasn’t entertaining enough, simply because they never saw the truth.

Hermione closed the door behind her, and tiptoed her way into the living room. It was quiet and dark, so she assumed Luna was already asleep. She wasn’t surprised – it was already past midnight when she left the Ministry. It must have been very late now. Or very early, depending on your point of view. She dropped her heavy bag on the couch, took off her coat and boots, and headed for the kitchen. There a big plate covered by a metal lid was waiting for her on the table. Hermione smiled, took off the lid and breathed in the smell of food. One time she asked Luna what kind of magic she used for cooking. To that she replied with one word: ‘spices’.

She heated up the cold chicken curry with a silent movement of her wand and sat in the kitchen eating. All around her on the walls were paintings, paintings of rare (and sometimes imaginary) creatures, beautiful landscapes, and friendly faces. Luna’s life centered on her art, it was everywhere you looked. In the morning, right after sunrise, she was already in their garden, painting another masterpiece. Often she would draw the same picture over and over again, perfecting the technique, focusing on every tiny detail that seemed important to her. Hermione was pretty sure that, by now, their every friend had at least a few of Luna’s paintings in their house. And still, there was never a shortage. She didn’t seem to ever run out of inspiration.

After finishing her late night dinner, Hermione put the dish in the sink and tiptoed up the stairs to the bedroom. As she has guessed, Luna was in the bed, wrapped in three heavy blankets and asleep. Not bothering to change into pajamas, Hermione took off everything apart from her underwear and quietly slipped under the blankets. Luna’s sleep remained undisturbed. With a sigh of relief, Hermione turned on her side and pressed her face into the soft, cool pillow. She was so tired that sleep kidnapped her mind before her thoughts came back to today’s events, and luckily so. At least the disturbing images stayed out of her dreams.

***

She woke up because something heavy was sitting on her chest. Hermione rubbed her eyes and squinted. It was Vincent – their fluffy, slightly overfed cat. She stretched, making Vincent jump from her chest and walk away on his short legs, evidently not very pleased.

As she got up and started picking a new set of clothes, Luna entered the room.

-Good morning, buttercup. – She murmured, fiddling with a lock of her hair. – Breakfast is ready.

And immediately after she turned round to leave.

-You’re not gonna ask me about yesterday? – Hermione asked.

Luna shrugged. – I’m not gonna interrogate you before your first cup of coffee. Besides, I have flowers to water. – She pointed at the shirts that Hermione held in her hands. – That one. – She said. – It is softer, and looks much better on you. Now, gotta check on those tulips.

Hermione smiled. Luna and she couldn’t have been more different. Luna was quiet and gentle, moving like a flower petal on the wind, carefully avoiding every obstacle in her way. She spoke rarely, and even when she did, her words were sometimes puzzling, sometimes outright nonsensical, but Hermione could always understand her. And Hermione spoke a lot, maybe even too much – even when exhausted beyond the point of no return, she would still create long, sophisticated monologues filled with meaning. But she always envied Luna, her creative talents, the grace in her movements… Hermione couldn’t walk across her own house without bumping into something.

The differences didn’t stop there. Hermione was order, and Luna was chaos. Hermione took the same route on her way home, every day, for the last seven years. She read the same books she had as a child, and kept her interests and obsessions for decades. Luna collected obsessions like stamps – every few months, there was something new. She loved re-decorating the house, moving the furniture around in ever so subtle ways, which sometimes pissed Hermione off. Luna resided in randomness; it seemed her world was bigger than just the objects around her. There was a universe in her mind that she didn’t share with anyone.

 

The golden rays of the sun were crawling slowly up the walls, highlighting every scratch and dusty surface. The air was thick and smelled of syrop and coffee beans. Hermione held her cup firmly in her hands, sipping the hot liquid. She loved her mornings: sitting near the window, eating breakfast and watching her beloved girlfriend take care of the flowers. Her house was a safe place. It was calm, quiet, and familiar – pleasantly devoid of surprises. Well, except for Luna’s eccentric decorating projects.

-Did you enjoy the waffles?

Hermione didn’t catch the moment Luna came back to the house. She was standing in front of the table, her blond hair messy and tangled, dirt under her fingernails.

-I did. – Hermione nodded, mixing her coffee absent-mindedly.

-What is bothering you? – Luna asked, and took a seat opposite her.

Once again, Hermione was surprised by Luna’s abilities to read her state of mind. Five years of living together, and she still relied on taking sneak-peaks at Luna’s mood stone. Despite sounding like a cheap fake, that trinket of her actually worked.

-The usual. – Hermione replied. – Rather nasty case in the ministry.

Hermione loved working in the Magical Law Enforcement, she truly did. But every time they sent her to be an expert on a ‘special case’, the memories would haunt her for weeks.

-Murder?

-Suspected. And nobody has any idea what might have killed him.

-Who was the victim?

-A man, Sebastian Abbey. He lived alone, no family, no friends, recently released from Azkaban after two years of service for various small crimes – not exactly a celebrated member of society. That’s probably why he was found a week after he died. No one checked on him. They aren’t sure if it has any connection with magic, they called us because he was a wizard.

-What do you think has happened? – Luna was twirling a ribbon in her hands, wrapping it around her index finger, then unwrapping, then doing it again.

-I have no idea. Couldn’t have been murder, or suicide, or natural cause. But it sure is creepy.

 

_They climbed down the wobbly staircase, and it felt like it could break under their feet at any minute. The cellar was dark, and the smell of rotting and decay was overwhelming. The wooden floor was covered by dirt, dry leafs and old, yellow scrolls. And there, in the middle of the room, was the reason they were here – a body of a young man._

_Avior, Hermione’s trainee, stood in the corner, eyes fixated on one spot. He was easily frightened and didn’t deal very well with stress, but it didn’t stop him from choosing his current job. Hermione wanted to encourage him, but she didn’t feel well herself. She almost had to force her own hand to move and direct the source of light to the victim. The dead man laid on his back on the muddy floor, his eyes closed, his skin grey and slightly wrinkled. There were no signs of trauma or struggle. In fact, he looked as if he fell asleep and passed away for no reason at all. Hermione has seen things much worse, during the war and at her work. Nevertheless, the sight was bothering her immensely._

_-This place looks deserted. Like no one has lived here for years. – Avior said, cautiously taking a step forward._

_-He returned from prison a month ago. – Hermione explained. – His name is, was, Sebastian._

_-Did the previous team come up with any explanations?_

_-They haven’t got a clue. – She was waving her wand over the body, checking for any used spell. – That’s why they called us._

_-Doesn’t look like a human could have done it. Could it be an animal, or a magical creature? Like a dementor._

_-Dementors don’t kill. – Hermione replied. – They are only interested in the soul._

_-Maybe it was an accident. I saw a cauldron in the living room. Many potions prepared improperly can kill. – He forced an awkward smile. – I was good at potions at school._

_-I’m very happy for you. – She told him, only then realizing how sarcastic her tone was. – I’m sorry, Ave. I like this no more than you do._

_The other workers soon arrived to take the body to a facility. They had specialists who could identify tiny traces of any substance, or any spell. Yet they discovered nothing. When they came back to the ministry, Hermione turned to the best source of comfort and knowledge she knew – a library. Her own collection was so extensive, finding the right volume was already a challenge. She spent the rest of her day with her books. She was so absorbed by the confusing, contradicting statements that her perception of time just turned off. By the time she got up from her chair, it was already late evening._

_What was the mysterious force that killed a man right there, in his house, leaving no traces and no clues? She didn’t know, and it was making her feel uneasy and rather anxious._

-When lost, look for someone who is lost too. – Luna said, then got up and started picking up the dirty dishes. She hummed a tune under her breath as she guided the plates into the sink with an upward motion of her wand. – Nevil will love the asters. They are about to bloom.

Immediately, Hermione understood what Luna meant.

-You’re right. – She said. – I’ll ask Harry about it.

-Say hi to thestrals from me. – Luna added, kissing Hermione on the cheek.

And a minute later she was gone from the room.

***

The Floo network between the ministry and Hogwarts was due for a renewal decades ago, but the wizards and witches in charge of budget kept postponing it. ‘We already have the Hogwarts Express to pay for!’ they said. Hermione wondered what they would say if they had to use the system, at least once in a while. She cursed under her breath, then sneezed, and a small puff of Floo powder erupted from her nose. Trying desperately to brush it off her robe, she climbed out of the fireplace and stretched.

The Defense against the dark arts professor’s office was empty and looked rather lonely. Hermione has heard that Harry didn’t use it very often, and preferred to spend his free time in the Gryffindor common room. It made the students increasingly uncomfortable, but no one wanted to talk to him about it. Twenty years later, Harry still couldn’t take a hint.

She found him in one of the classrooms, cleaning up after some sort of magical accident. There were tiny pieces of shredded paper everywhere: some of them smoking, some already burning. Harry was leaping from one pile of paper shreds to another, distinguishing the fire with swift motions of his wand, completely absorbed by the task. Hermione giggled, but he didn’t notice. She took her own want out of her pocket, raised her arm in the air and said:

-Scourgify.

And the mess disappeared. Harry turned on the spot and looked at Hermione as if she just did something absolutely inexcusable.

-Thanks a lot. – He said, and sighed. – Now I’ll have to set it up again for the next class.

-You mean this was done on purpose?

-Of course! I am simulating a snow storm.

-You do know there is a spell that creates snow, right? – She pointed her wand upwards, and snowflakes started falling from the ceiling.

-Oh. – Harry scratched his head, rather embarrassed. – Well, paper still looks nicer.

 

They sat near a window and drank tea while a bunch of first-year students had their broomstick flying class outside. Hermione smiled as she remembered her first try, and Harry’s ultimate triumph on that day.

-Oliver Wood comes to give a masterclass or two every year. – Harry informed her. – I go to Hogsmeade when it happens. He always makes me do a demonstration, and I hate that.

-Sure, because you can’t stand being in the center of attention, the chosen one.

-I’d love it, if I could fly as well as I used to. – He replied. – No, I’d rather stick to my own subject.

Once they have discussed all the recent news and rumors, Hermione was going to get to the purpose of her visit, but was interrupted by a girl in Ravenclaw robes sneaking into the classroom without knocking.

-Professor Potter? – She called, her hands clasped awkwardly behind her back.

-What is it, Jamie? – Harry asked.

-There are pixies in the corridor near the Clock Tower.

-No there aren’t. I checked. Twice.

-But sir, Lin and I, we saw them!

-If there were any pixies there, I would have found them. – Harry insisted. – I have been an auror, you know.

The girl giggled. – For six months.

-Have you been an auror for six months, Jamie? – He asked, a kind expression on his face.

-No. – The girl replied. – But I might be, when I grow up.

-You shouldn’t miss your classes then. Don’t you have Herbology right now?

She nodded, and turned to leave.

-Kind of tired of those pixie rumors. – Harry told Hermione when the girl closed the door behind her. – To be honest, I did hear some noise in that corridor. Hope they won’t actually find any. That would be embarrassing.

Hermione laughed. – You know, I am still a little bit shocked by the fact McGonnagal even allowed you to teach, with no experience and no recommendation letter.

-They don’t exactly have people lining up for this position. – He shrugged. – Besides, at least I do my job better than, say, a man with Voldemort on his head, or worse – Umbridge.

-Can’t argue with that. – Hermione smiled.

-So, might I ask you why you are here? – He asked. – Apart from insulting my teaching abilities.

-Oh, you should be pleased.  –She replied. – I am here for your wisdom and expertise.

He listened to her speak, and not a muscle moved on his face. Harry wasn’t easily disturbed. Maybe he developed an immunity, or maybe he just learned not to show it. Once she had nothing more to say, he shook his head.

-I’m sorry, but I have no idea. My only original guess was Basilisk, or something of the kind. There is magic that leaves no trace, but I am not familiar enough with that. I can list a dozen or so of potential spells, but I don’t think it will help you.

-Right. – Hermione frowned. – I guess we’ll have to postpone the case, until more evidence resurfaces. It’s a shame though. Maybe he wasn’t a very nice guy, but he deserves justice too.

Suddenly someone burst through the door.

-Professor Potter! – It was a tall, skinny boy with a Slytherin scarf around his neck. – Pixies! Near the Clock Tower!

-How many times…

-No, they caught them now. They really did!

Harry rubbed his eyes, thinking.

-Do I have to deal with it?

-It was your son who set them free though, sir. Headmistress wants to see you.

-I’ll be there in a minute. Now go, Augustus, go.

The boy nodded and left the room.

Hermione got up. – I guess I’ll be going. James is in trouble, probably.

-Three weeks at Hogwarts, already two detentions.

-You aren’t proud?

-He caused them all by accident.

Hermione smiled, but covered her mouth. – Like father, like son.

Harry didn’t react.

-Okay then, I’m gonna go see Neville. Luna gave me some aster seeds for him.

***

There were many things Hermione disliked: cruelty, hypocrisy, itchy sweaters, lukewarm tea… the list went on. However one thing never failed to ruin her emotional stability – uncertainty. Ambiguity. Mystery. When asked a question, she would spend her every waking moment thinking about it, until the answer was clear to her. People thought of her as an obnoxious know-it-all, but the truth was, the absence of knowledge simply made her incredibly uncomfortable, so she strived to fill that vacuum. The problem began when a question existed, but nobody knew the answer. That’s when her need for certainty would get on her nerves.

She was biting her nails again, curled up in an armchair, and Luna noticed how tense and uncomfortable she looked. A minute later she was there with a warm blanket and a tin of sweets.

-Take one. – She said, opening the tin.

-My parents would be furious if they knew you are feeding their beloved daughter pure sugar.

-But they aren’t here. – Luna replied, and took one to demonstrate. – They taste like mint and lemon.

Hesitating for a second, Hermione took a sweet as well. Maybe it’s not very good for her teeth, but at least she isn’t biting her nails anymore. She wrapped herself in the blanket that Luna brought and made room for her in the big armchair.

-You look stormy. – Luna said. – Like a cloud when it’s about to rain. What’s on your mind?

-Oh, you know. The case. It’s bothering me so much! I just need to know what it was.

-Maybe it was tacita interfectorem. – She suggested. – It’s a wild spirit, lives under the ground, hides in there at night: in mole tunnels and in between the roots of trees. It doesn’t usually attack people, but when it does, they die instantly, and there is no trace. Blink of an eye, and that’s it.

-I appreciate your effort, but I doubt it was an imaginary creature.

-They are as imaginary as nargles. – Luna told her, slightly offended.

-Exactly my point. – Hermione nodded.

For a moment, they were silent.

-I wonder if the flavor of the quarks is a nice flavor or not. – Luna said, suddenly changing the subject. – I think their colors are pretty.

-What are you talking about? – Hermione asked.

-The quarks. The tiny things that electrons and protons and photons are made of.

One of the muggle sciences, quantum physics, was Luna’s latest obsession. She would go on for hours about the properties of Higgs bosons and the particle-wave duality of light, and to Hermione it sounded indistinguishable from her usual tales and fantasies. She found it hard to believe that those unfamiliar with magic could take these peculiar ideas and call them science, but then she saw Luna write a rather complex equation right on the living room table, and it changed her mind. She wasn’t surprised that out of all people Luna took interest in the area, and managed to make sense of it. She was a true Ravenclaw after all.

-Quarks have a spin, a color, a flavor and strangeness. And some other properties, too. I’ve told you about it a week ago, when we were outside in the garden.

-Yes, I remember. – Hermione told her. – And I still don’t understand it.

-Want to know a secret? – She asked, then leaned closer and whispered in her ear: - Nobody does. And if they say they do, they are lying.

Then Luna laughed, and her laughter was clear and melodic, like tiny bells ringing. It made Hermione feel warm and fuzzy.

-What did Harry say? Did he help you? – Luna asked, returning back to point.

-Not really. But I’m glad I talked to him. And being at Hogwarts was nice. Things are really changing there, in terms of equality. He said that back in April Slytherin students had to stay in other dorms because there was a stink problem at the dungeons again, and barely anyone protested.

-Was it Peeves that ruined their dorms?

-I think it’s just a natural thing. Maybe one day they will have to rebuild the whole building. Wouldn’t be a bad idea. The sewers definitely need a renewal – there’s a skeleton of a huge deadly snake somewhere in there.

-Are you gonna keep investigating?

Hermione sighed. – I don’t know. I think we will have to leave it unsolved.

-Okay. – Luna said. – Do you want to listen to the radio?

-With pleasure.

 

They sat in the armchair together, wrapped in one blanket, with Vincent on Luna’s lap, and listened to Lee Jordan go on about the crisis in the broomstick industry – and in that moment, no evil existed in the world, or at least not in their home.

***

Sometimes Luna’s mind would play tricks on her. Sometimes her wild imagination kept her awake at night. She had a tendency to be haunted by the ghosts of the pasts. She found it hard to let go of old fears and heartbreaks. To this day every time she saw someone laughing, her first thought would be ‘they are laughing at me’. Hermione couldn’t relate. For her anxieties of the future were more common, and much more bothersome. But she always tried to support her the best way she could.

Luna woke up mere minutes before the first rays of sunrise touched the windows. She tossed and turned trying to fall asleep again, but it only made her feel worse. With a sigh she gently poked Hermione’s arm, and she immediately woke up, and looked at her, her eyebrows frowned.

-What is it? – Hermione asked.

Luna made a high-pitched, distressed noise. Words were difficult for her to process when she was worried.

-Dreams. Bad dreams. – Luna said, finally.

Hermione rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clocks. Six fifty-three in the morning. There was no point in going back to sleep now.

-Dreams about what?

-Things that never was, never have been. – Luna told her, squeezing Hermione’s hand. – Parallel universes.

-Parallel universes?

-Yes. Other worlds, worlds that don’t look like ours. Foreign, and cursed. Not all of them, just the ones I saw.

-How can parallel worlds exist?

Luna blinked, gathering her thoughts. – They keep separating, with every decision that we make. Sometimes they are kind, and beautiful. Sometimes they are wrong. I saw a world where we never met, where you, and Ron, and Harry, and Neville haven’t been my friends. It was lonely. I don’t like lonely.

-Well, you aren’t alone now. – Hermione assured her, and they embraced.

-We’re Scully and Mulder, and we need each other. – Luna said.

Hermione smiled. – Sure, if you want to believe.

And together they watched the world drown in pallid pink shades of the young dawn.

***

Hermione looked to her right, then to her left, then to her right again. On one side of the table laid an enormous stack of parchment, her neat handwriting all over it. On the other was a second, even bigger stack, of blank parchment. It didn’t seem to diminish no matter how much time she spent working on it. And it was nearly lunch break.

Suddenly her decision to help everyone in the department seemed not very wise. She was trying to be nice, get people to like her, but now she just had a headache from all the paperwork. Perhaps she should turn people down, tell them to do their part themselves, but then they would dislike her even more. She stretched, and got up from the table. She will feel better after a break.

Before she had time to return to her self-appointed duties, there was a knock on the door. ‘Weird’, Hermione thought. Usually she didn’t have any visitors in the middle of the day, unless something bad has happened. And she definitely didn’t need any more bad in her life right now. Cautiously, she opened the door leading to her office.

Behind it was a short woman, casually dressed, with very long hair and dark circles under her eyes. She hid her hands in her pockets and coughed.

-Excuse me? – Hermione wasn’t sure about what to say. – Are you looking for something, or someone?

-Mmmm, yes. – The woman replied. – Can I come in?

Hermione shrugged. – I guess.

-Thank you. – She stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind her. – I’m Ruby, Ruby Whittaker. I’m here to collect the personal possessions of Sebastian Abbey.

-Oh. – Suddenly Hermione felt weak and pale, as if she alone was responsible for the man’s murder. – Are you his family member?

-Friend, or at least we used to be friends. We weren’t that close. – She quickly added.

-I’m sorry for your loss. – Hermione told her, as the only socially acceptable thing she knew for this situation. – Want a cup of tea?

-Sure. – Ruby said, taking a free seat near Hermione’s table.

 

‘Drinking tea is such a British thing’, Hermione thought to herself, mixing the brown liquid in her cup. ‘In case of emergency, put the kettle on’. She liked it though. There was something calming about the whole ritual, from boiling the water to adding milk and sugar. It brought confidence.

-I do not have the possessions here. – Hermione said. – We’ll have to descend two levels down for that. But I can talk to you about… it, answer any questions you might have.

Ruby was rather occupied by the photos on Hermione’s table: one with Ron and Parvati, one with Neville and Hannah, and the one where Harry and Ginny stood with all three of their kids, waving at the camera together.

-Are you Hermione Granger? – She asked, scratching her nose.

-Yes, yes I am. – She nodded.

-I have read that book about you all. I didn’t believe most of it, but I must say – your contribution to winning the war will never be forgotten.

Hermione felt awkward. It has been a lot of time since it happened, and less and less people would bring it up. This has been the first time in months.

-I was a second-year student when it happened. I wanted to stay and fight but we were all evacuated. Sat it out safely while so many people died. It is sad. I just want you to know that people remember and people are grateful.

-Thank you. – Hermione finally made herself say something. She sipped her tea, hoping that part of the conversation was now over. – So, do you have any questions about the investigation?

-Not really. – Ruby replied. – I don’t have illusions about Seb. He was never a lawful citizen. It’s a shame though. He was a great student, brilliant at transfiguration. But he used his talents in the wrong way. He would sell transfigured stuff at the Diagon Alley for a lot of money, and as soon as the “happy customer” would come back home, the trinkets would turn back into a piece of rusty metal or something like that. He made a fortune on that. Too bad they took it all away when he went to Azkaban.

-Not all people have enough good in them. – Hermione said. – Doesn’t mean they deserve to die.

-Oh no, I’m not saying he deserved death. But I am not surprised he ended up like that. I really tried to help him, but he didn’t want my help. He just wanted more gold. – Ruby sighed. – I missed being his friend. I remember our time in the Hufflepuff dorm rooms, sharing secrets, exchanging chocolate frog cards. Good times.

Ruby looked up and saw a big Hogwarts banned hanging on the wall.

-I see you are nostalgic too. – She smiled.

-A little bit. – Hermione agreed.

-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandes. – Ruby read. – Funny thing, I still don’t know what that means.

-It means ‘don’t tickle a sleeping dragon’. – Hermione explained. – It’s Latin.

-Latin?

-Yes, like ‘veni vidi vici’, or ‘homo homini lupus est’, or… - Suddenly she felt as though a light bulb lit up in her mind. – Or ‘tacita interfectorem’. – She murmured.

-What does _that_ mean?

-Silent killer. It means ‘silent killer’. – Hermione got up. – Sorry, I need to go now. Knock on someone else’s door, they can lead you to the right place.

And without a reply, she stormed off. As she ran across the corridors, thoughts swarmed once again in her head, pieces of a puzzle assembling into one picture. Everything made sense now: the pale grey skin, the horrible smell, even Luna’s comment. She practically forced her way into Avior’s office, and he nearly chocked on a slice of pie.

-Lunch is over. – She told him. – We’re going to the crime scene.

 

Apparition didn’t go that well for Avior – a patch of his hair was removed in the process. Now, while Hermione examined every corner of the building, he stood in front of a dirty mirror and scratched the back of his head.

-You’re okay? – Hermione asked, passing by with a wand in her hand.

-Sure. – He didn’t sound very convincing. – I wanted to get a haircut anyway.

-I think we need to go down there again.

He nodded, wrapping himself in his coat for comfort. ‘Should have taken that job in an ice cream shop’ he said to himself as they climbed down the same wobbly staircase.

-It should be here somewhere. – Hermione seemed to be sniffing the air in the room, very focused on her task.

-What?

-Silent killer! Ugh, I should have known from the beginning. It’s obvious!

-Not to me.

She turned around and looked him in the eyes. – H2S, hydrogen sulfide. It’s a colorless, poisonous gas. It can kill in a minute, and it leaves no trace. Except for the smell.

-The smell?

-The smell of rotting eggs. It must be somewhere in here, that’s where we found him. – One more minute of searching, and finally success. – Aha! – She exclaimed. – Here. – And she beckoned Avior with her finger.

He came closer and cautiously sniffed the air, then immediately made a step back.

-It’s disgusting.

-We better move away. – Hermione added, stepping back as well.

-How can you breathe that in for a whole minute?!

-Your nervous cells start to die – after ten seconds, you don’t even smell it anymore.

-Huh. – He scratched his head, which reminded him of the bold patch. – So he must ‘ave been trying to fix something in there, breathed in too much, and died.

-This thing leads straight to a container filled to the brim with garbage. Perfect conditions for the gas to be produced.

-So there is no murdered then?

-No. It was an accident.

They paused. The whole event still seemed rather tragic.

 

-It’s not pointless. – Avior said, when they were back upstairs. – This house was already bought. If you didn’t solve this mystery, the next owners could have died as well, or people who came to clean that thing. You saved their lives.

-Thanks. – Hermione replied. – But it wasn’t me who solved it.

-No?

-It was my girlfriend.

***

The evening was pitch black and unusually warm. Outside dozens of moths flew in circles around a lamp, pushing and fighting for a better spot, looking for god knows what. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and ginger – Luna was making an apple pie. She hummed a tune under her nose, hopping from one spot to another. Hermione sat opposite her, knitting a hat, or maybe a sock. She wasn’t sure yet. It didn’t really matter anyway, she just liked the sensation of having the soft material in her hands, and the motion of the fingers.

-I wanna go feed squirrels tomorrow. – Luna said, adding some last pinches of spices into the dough.

-No problem. – Hermione told her.

-If we feed them tomorrow, October will be sunny and not too dull.

-What about the birds?

-The birds can feed themselves. They are wizards and witches too.

-Really? – Hermione couldn’t help but smile.

-Not all of them. Robins are, and so are magpies and crows. But not sparrows. No, that’s silly.

The pie was in the oven, and Luna joined Hermione in her seat. Every now and then they would share a kiss, or laugh at a silly joke, or simply look at each other, and see sparks in each other’s eyes. Hermione was never good at feelings, but she knew one thing – this is where she belonged. With another person, in her own house, where it was safe to be who she is.

-What kind of baby names do you like? – Luna asked, completely out of the blue.

-You want kids?

-One day. I like flowery names, like Lilly. Could we name our kid Lilly?

-That’s what Harry’s daughter is called.

-Right. – Luna frowned. – Okay then, what about Poppy?

-That’s our old school nurse, Madam Pomfrey.

-Hmmm. – Luna paused, then smiled. – I know! Rose.

-Rose?

-Yeah, Rose. It’s a lovely name, isn’t it?

-Sure it is. – Hermione agreed. – We will call our daughter Rose then.

-Uh-hu. – Luna confirmed. – We can come up with more names later.

Hermione nodded, and continued to knit.

The world could be a nasty place sometimes, but it had nice things too, and it was hers – or, rather, theirs. And their world was bright, complicated, exciting and absolutely, mind-blowingly beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
